


Singularity

by MmeSatan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MmeSatan/pseuds/MmeSatan
Summary: Papa Emeritus II enjoys some private time by the fire, thinking about one Sister of Sin he desires.





	Singularity

 

          Papa was standing in front of his bathroom sink, naked. His chasuble had been discarded as soon as he had returned to his rooms, so all that remained was the skull paint on his face. Having filled the sink with warm water, he grabbed a cloth and soap and worked to remove it. His hands moved with practiced ease, the gestures repeated countless times over the years. His eyes watched his reflection attentively, making sure no makeup was left behind; but his mind was elsewhere, visualizing the crowd during the day’s ritual.

 

          Specifically, he was thinking of one particular member of his flock, a young Sister of Sin whose name he did not know. He had first noticed her a few weeks prior, sitting alone in the back of the chapel during a ritual. Her head had been bowed down at all times, except when he was speaking. In those moments, she looked up and her eyes never left him. He decided to look for her in the crowd during the following ritual, and sure enough there she was, still alone, still looking at him: only him. Two became three, then four, and before he could stop it, a habit formed and it became something he looked forward to. There were hundreds of souls looking at him during rituals, but Papa had eyes only for one.

 

          He had tried to talk to her, the few times he had come across her in the halls. But she always silently bowed to him and promptly fled when he was, inevitably, assaulted by one or two bolder Sisters demanding his attention. Soon enough, he found himself thinking about her when he was alone, as he was now.

   

          She was perhaps not the most beautiful woman in the Church, but something about her had caught his eye. The soft line of her chin and the curve of her neck. Her large blue eyes, the way the corners of her mouth curved up when she smiled, the strands of curly brown hair occasionally peeking out from under her veil. The way her silhouette, obscured by her loose-fitted habit, promised voluptuous curves and soft flesh. Or maybe it was the pious way with which she bowed her head, so rare with Sisters. The gentleness he could feel beyond her nervous manners, the intensity of the look in her eyes during rituals, when she thought he wasn’t looking.

 

          Having put on a pair of black slacks and a white shirt, Papa poured himself a glass of scotch, neat, and sat in his armchair by the fireplace. His eyes, behind his usual mirror shades, were fixed on the dancing flames; his mind was still wandering on her image.

 

          He saw her standing in front of him, as clear as day, her long, wavy hair flowing freely over her shoulders. He would invite her to come closer, and run his fingers through the silky strands. He wanted to touch her, hold her, smell her. He wanted to make her his. He imagined her skin, soft and delicate, blush creeping up her cheeks under the touch of his fingers. His hands would wander down her arms and back, feeling her shape through the fabric of her habit, lower and lower, before pulling it over her head.

 

          He imagined that she would now be naked in front of him. He’d take a few steps back to admire her form, asking her to turn around slowly for him. He could tell just by watching her walking by that she would have a great ass, a perfect canvas for his hands to turn various shades of red. Then, holding her once more, he would let his fingers run over her skin, gently, until he felt her melt and tremble against him, asking for more. He had never heard her voice, but he imagined it to be as soft and gentle as she was.

 

          Leaning back in his chair, he sipped on his drink. The burn of alcohol in his throat was soothing. Closing his eyes, Papa wondered how he would have her first. On the couch, perhaps, lying under him, back arched and legs wrapped around his waist; or bent over his desk, spread and offered for him.

 

        Soon, Papa had to free his erection from his trousers, the fabric restraining him uncomfortably. He grabbed his cock with his left hand, holding it loosely at the base while he brought his mind back to the young Sister, on display for him, her ass in the air as if asking to be spanked. He would oblige, of course, using his open palm to give the skin a nice red hue. Would she gasp? Yelp? Would she beg for more as his hands slowly ran up her spine, or would she stay silent, trembling under his touch? Could she stay quiet when he finally pushed his cock all the way inside of her?

 

          His hand was now running up and down his cock in long, slow strokes, matching the pace at which his mental self was going in and out of the Sister. He liked to take his time with women he felt a connection with, to make things last rather than simply get off. His strokes hastened as he envisioned her moaning and pushing back against him, imagined how tight she would be around him. His eyes were shut behind his glasses, his head thrown back and breath heavy as he slowly pleasured himself to her image.

 

          Then he heard a knock on the door.

 

          -------------------

 

          Sister Beatrice waited a long minute for an answer to her knock, remembering what Sister Madeline had said: "If he's not in the office, just put the tray on his desk and leave." Nothing, so she knocked for a second time, louder. She waited again: still no response, so she did as instructed and quietly opened the door.

   

          She had never been in Papa's office before and she was nervous. Technically, she was never supposed to go there, her duties were in the gardens and cellars. But she had begged her friend to let her bring His Unholiness his dinner that night. She was curious to see the room for herself, she had told Madeline. Of course, it was really more than that: she wanted to see him. She could swear she had caught him watching her in the halls, but why would he? She was only a low-ranking Sister of Sin, and not even a beautiful one. Still, part of her hoped that he had been watching her and only her. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks at the thought.

   

          Balancing the dinner tray on one hand, she walked in and quietly closed the door behind herself. Papa's desk stood directly across the large room, dark and imposing. Looking straight ahead, she walked slowly towards it. She was nearly there when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Papa was sitting by the fire, holding his… he was… She nearly dropped the tray.

   

          Blushing furiously, she closed the distance to the desk and quietly placed the food on it, pretending she hadn't seen him. She turned around, avoiding to look in his direction, and began to carefully walk back to the door. She had only taken a few steps when his voice resonated in the near-silent room: "Do you not like what you see, cara?"

   

          She instinctively turned to face him, then froze, her eyes wide. Her gaze fell on his lap and against her better judgement, she stared at his hand, still moving up and down his cock, completely unperturbed. She did not know what to do and her jaw dropped, unable to respond.

 

          “You are free to leave, of course, but if you would like to stay, you are welcome.” He patted his knee with his free hand, the other not stopping its motion. She stood still, her heart beating impossibly fast. She could not believe it was was at a loss on how to properly respond to such an offer. _I’m dreaming, surely, it’s one of those dreams I keep having about him,_ she thought distantly.

 

          He was still staring at her, his gaze so intense that she could somehow feel it through his mirror shades when he spoke again. “Was I wrong to think there was something between us, cara?” She shook her head and nervously walked up to him. He patted his knee once more, inviting, and she sat on it timidly. She wasn’t quite facing him, still unsure of where she should look; though she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at his cock.

 

          “No need to be shy, cara. Here,” he said, gently pushing her skirt up to her knees, “straddle me.” She did so, her hands hanging awkwardly by her sides while he adjusted her skirt back to cover her thighs. Sitting like that, there were only two layers of fabric between her lap and him; the heat from his body felt searing. He brought his hands on each side of her face, sliding fingers underneath her veil. “Let me take a good look at you.” He pulled the black piece of fabric down, freeing her long curls. He ran his fingers through her hair, then whispered “Beautiful…” more to himself than for her. Nonetheless, the simple word further fueled the fire that was already burning deep inside of her.

 

          Papa pulled Beatrice towards him, until her hands rested on his chest and he could rub his face in her hair. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, and his left hand resuming the strokes on his cock, a mere few inches from her thigh. She must have been dreaming, it was the only explanation.

 

          He brought his lips to her ear. “What a wonderful surprise it was to see you walk in. I was just thinking of you…” From the corner of her eye, she could see him pick up the pace. “I was watching you during today’s ritual. Did you notice?”

 

          She leaned against his chest and nodded. _Surely I’m going mad_ , she thought.

 

          He lifted her face to see her eyes. “Is that why you volunteered to bring me dinner? It’s not part of your duties, cara, I know that.” She nodded again, her blush somehow still deepening. “You’re very beautiful when you blush.” She collapsed on him once more, and could feel a deep rumble in his chest as he chuckled, using his right hand to steady her back.

 

          Be it a dream or not, Papa was the most attractive man she had ever met, and to have his full attention like that was incredible, unbelievable. Intoxicating. So close to him, she could smell his cologne, a rich, complex scent that still let through his own musk. Her mind was dizzy with everything she noticed: his smell, the warmth that radiated from his chest, the quiet strength of his lean muscles, and of course, the hand, moving rhythmically over his gorgeous cock, so close that she wouldn’t even need to stretch her arm to reach it.

 

          Without thinking about it, she started to rock her hips on his thigh.

 

          -------------------

 

          Papa smirked, his face back in her hair, when he felt her hips moving. He hadn’t even really heard her voice yet, and there she was, grinding on him? _So I was right, she was watching._

   

          And with that, he had his cue. His right hand slid from her lower back to her knee, and then back up her thigh -- this time, under her skirt. He stopped halfway up when she stopped moving, seeming to only now realize what she had been doing. He spoke reassuringly, “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself, cara, do keep going.” She started grinding again, tentatively at first, then more deliberate and confident. She slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, angling herself forward for more direct contact.

 

          He was very much enjoying this little game and resumed touching himself with his left hand. The right spent some time caressing her inner thigh as she rocked against him. He enjoyed her warmth and smell, incense from the ritual still allowing hints of cedar and lavender. She was even lovelier than in his daydreams. He pushed her hair aside to expose her neck and place kisses on the delicate skin there. She was soft and sweet, and he found that he could not get enough.

 

          His hand slid up her thigh until it reached her… underwear? He raised an eyebrow. “So _modest_ , cara. I hope I’m not intruding?” She shook her head against him, and he pushed the fabric to the side, sliding two fingers between her folds. She started to moan at the contact, but stopped herself.

 

          It was the first time Papa had heard her voice, and he would not tolerate that she hid it from him. "I want to hear you, cara," he whispered into her ear, rubbing the tip of his fingers against her clit. "Sing for me."

 

          She did, delightful little moans escaping her lips as she rocked her hips on his hand. Papa had slowed down the pace of his strokes, favoring the discovery of her body and voice over the well known touch of his own palm. "You're being so good for me, cara, letting me play with you like that." He added upward pressure to her grinding motion. "Don't hold back, I want to see you come undone."

 

          Nuzzling his neck, she finally let go of the last bit of hesitation, her moans getting louder as she approached her peak. Papa's need grew more pressing as well and he gripped himself tighter. He felt her hold on his neck strengthen, her thighs shaking, and he kept stimulating her as she cried out through her orgasm, until her voice came to a still and her breathing started to relax.

 

          Now back to focusing on himself, Papa brought his right hand to her ass, flexing his fingers over the supple flesh as he worked for his own climax. He came hard with a low growl, spilling over his hand and slacks.

 

          They sat, still and quiet, holding each other for several minutes as the spell wore off. Soon he felt her stiffen, pulling away from him as if she had suddenly realized the position she found herself in. She rose from his lap, blushing and bowing her head to avoid his gaze. "I'm sorry, your Unholiness, I did not mean to… I shouldn't have…"

 

          His hand reached under her chin and lifted her face. “Look at me, cara,” he said, reassuringly. He slid his glasses down his nose and looked at her over them, so that she could see his eyes. “Did you not want this? If so, I am terribly sorry. I never meant to demand something you did not want to give freely.”

 

          She shook her head, eyes wide in horror. “No! Not at all. I did want this.” She blushed further. “I wanted this very much. It’s just…” She sighed. “You’re His Unholiness, Papa Emeritus II, and I am a simple Sister of Sin.”

 

          His brow furrowed. “ _Nonsense_. We had a good time, didn’t we? Why should our little differences prevent us from enjoying each other’s company, hm?” The humor in his voice finally brought a smile to her lips. She nodded and they both laughed, Papa enjoying that new sound very much.Their laughter died down and Beatrice picked up her veil, crumpled on the carpet, and put it back on, sighing. “I should go back to work.”

 

          He pushed his glasses back over his eyes. “Perhaps you should, cara.” Then, grimacing at his semen-covered hand, added: “Would you be a dear and fetch me a towel?” She rushed to do so and he watched her, smiling at the sway of her hips under her creased habit. She handed him the towel with a bow. He chuckled as he cleaned himself. “What a mess we made,” he said, gesturing at the distinctive stains on his crotch and right thigh. Then, looking at her again from head to toe, “But it was well worth it.”

 

          Having buttoned up his pants, he escorted her to the door and took her hand in his. “If you are so inclined, cara, I will have a Ghoul fetch you later tonight. I would greatly appreciate your company,” he said, before bowing and kissing her hand.

 

          She blushed once more, a shy smile on her lips, and nodded. “Yes, your Unholiness, I would.”

 

          With one hand on the door handle, he told her, “Call me Papa, yes?”, before opening it and watching her run off into the long hallway. He shut the door behind him, the corners of his lips curved into a smile, and whispered to himself, “What a lovely creature!”

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal gratitude to rubrikate and ratsmacabre for being the best friends and beta readers I could ask for. I couldn't keep writing without you. <3 And of course, many thanks to you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this silly little thing!


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